


Fly With Me

by lilacpages17



Series: Minsung Oneshots [3]
Category: K-pop, Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prison, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Boys Kissing, Crimes & Criminals, Fluff and Angst, Gangs, M/M, Mild Gore, Peter Pan References, Sad Ending, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-11-02 00:07:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20554415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilacpages17/pseuds/lilacpages17
Summary: If Jisung and Minho had met under different circumstances, perhaps things would’ve turned out differently. They could’ve been friends, brothers, or something more. But alas, life isn’t kind to lost boys nor is it merciful even to those who have so much light to offer. Two boys, a similarly morose fate, and many empty words in a hopeless place.





	Fly With Me

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Some graphic depictions of violence and murder in here. Also, the characters are aged a bit differently (mostly some of the minor characters are made into adults and whatnot). The two main characters are Jisung and Minho, however, so it shouldn’t affect the story much. I will tell you all now: look at the tags before you read! 
> 
> Please leave kudos and/or comments, I love to receive any sort of feedback and it really helps motivate me to write more!  
Do you all like more angsty things like this or my usual fluff? Thanks again for reading and enjoy~

~Present~

“Hey, Minho hyung, did you ever get to try cheesecake up there?” A tired Han Jisung had swung himself into the cell, momentarily startling Minho from the cot where he was sewing. His pair of work pants had been torn and the boy was forced to beg for a spool of thread and a needle, insisting that the most harm he could do with it is prick his finger or stab his own eye. Minho was tired of working on manual labor, the long hours and heavy lifting of stones making his back creak in ways someone his age shouldn’t be subjected to. 

“Of course I did. Didn’t you?” Minho smirked at the younger, dropping the piece of cloth into his lap. “You’re the self proclaimed expert of the above.” 

“I’m an expert in some things, but my short 16 years up there didn’t let me get to have everything ok.” The younger puffed his cheeks cutely and shifted the lock on the door. The Underground 9 didn’t have many strict rules for being such a notorious prison, but it did have many regulations that had been decided upon by the residents themselves. 

_Rule 2: Always keep your cell door locked when you are inside. You never know what someone would be willing to do for an extra ration or pair of shoes. _

Minho rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless, glad to have Jisung back despite his loud tendencies. Jisung worked as a sort of radio DJ, broadcasting to the surface and being well known for his bright commentary and deep understanding of music. Minho isn’t sure what the younger was up to when he was living above, but he would be willing to bet on it having something to do with creating his own music. It was no secret that Jisung had a beautiful voice, one that entered Minho’s dreams when he least expected it and a poeticism that was usually hidden behind a silly joke or teasing. 

_Rule 5: Don’t talk about who you were before you came here or what you did unless it is unavoidable. _

“They’ve been shortening my program hyung!” Jisung ran a hand through his fluffy brown hair. Minho had never understood how the younger kept himself so put together, but he wasn’t going to question it if it meant he got to run his fingers through the boy’s soft strands. “It’s only a matter of time before they cut me out completely.” Minho wasn’t a fool, he could hear the undertones of fear in Jisung’s voice. Jisung wasn’t as physically adept as Minho, despite being relatively fit himself. He was smart and talented, but the underground was getting more crowded and the boys’ cellmates were getting antsy. 

“Don’t be foolish Sungie. They would never drop you like that; your program gives them way too much money and clout.” Jisung scoffed but his shoulders relaxed slightly at the reassurance. “Did you get your rations for the week?” 

“Of course. I just haven’t gotten around to eating them.” Minho squinted his eyes at the younger who was organizing his knapsack on the small table at the back of their cell. The edge of a wrapper peaked out from the bag along with a ratty notebook and shakily made pencil (Minho had carved it for the boy’s birthday last year). 

_Rule 7: Every prisoner is allowed one sack of items, no more no less. It must be kept on them at all times and anything else found in or outside the cells besides assigned clothing will be disposed of. _

Minho’s own belongings were meager, sack dented and light around his shoulder. The elder had never been one to cling to physical objects nor was he one to hold memories from his past. The only things he had were simple necessities like a multi functional tool (dull in parts and knife removed by the guards), a few candies, a small rock for dire circumstances, and a torn page of lyrics written by Jisung for him. The only other thing the boys carried on themselves was a pair of matching necklaces - a sun and moon lay against their collarbones and reminded them to keep fighting. It had cost Minho nearly an arm and a leg to acquire but he had made some decent connections during his time in the underground that had been willing to procure the jewelry for some extra rations and backup during the usual fights that took place. It was worth it though if only for the happy laugh and sprawl of kisses he had received from Jisung. 

“Hey… hyung… I know you don’t wanna hear about... IT... but… “ Jisung was leaning on the table, back facing Minho and knuckles white from where he was gripping the edge. The black haired boy on the bed tensed, a bad feeling creeping up his spine. 

“Spit it out Jisung.” He said, harsher than he had first intended. Jisung flinced.

“Your birthday… it’ll mark your 10th year of being here, right?” Minho bit his lip but let out a small hum of affirmation. 

_Rule 10: Once the time you have spent within the walls of the underground has become equal to that which you spent above, prisoners shall be tested in regards to their functionality and utility to society. Any who fail will receive their sentence early. _

That last line always irritated Minho. Everyone in the underground had a deadly sentence, whether it was life in prison or the death penalty itself. Few escaped the latter, but if they were deemed to have potential they would be brought to the 9th and put to work instead. Why extend one’s life if they were already doomed from the moment they were lowered in here, like ducks waiting to be shot by an army with loaded guns. 

“Yes, it will.” Minho sighed and sat up on the bed, placing his sewing aside and standing up. The bed released a creaky groan, the rusty springs barely moving. “What are you asking Sungie?” 

“It’s your halfway. They’re going to question you - test you.” Minho could hear the choked up tone in the boy’s voice and he would be willing to bet that there were tears welling up in his doe eyes. The elder hated that he was so weak to Jisung, that the boy had practically dug his fingers into Minho’s chest and taken his heart forcefully, tearing down all the carefully built defenses he had built. The younger had come into his life like a storm of a blinding energy and unexpected actions. Truly a force to be reckoned with despite his smaller stature and innocent appearance.

~ 2 years earlier ~

Minho had been living alone in his cell for a full year when Jisung came crashing into his life. Literally. The guards had tossed the boy carelessly into the cell some time in the middle of his sleep schedule, startling Minho so hard he nearly fell off his bed. 

“This one is staying with you, demon child.” Minho sighed at the name but didn’t say anything else, just sending the guards a withering look that had a scrawny trainee in the back cowering. He was proud of his glares, perhaps not of the reputation behind it. If it kept him safe, though, he wasn’t complaining. The cell door clanged closed when the larger guard had tugged it with a laugh. It banged back open slightly and Minho huffed, rushing to lock it and turn on the small lightbulb that served as light for his cell. 

“Hi?” A voice squeaked. Minho turned around to see a young boy on the floor, younger than him he presumed. He looked awfully scared for someone who had ended up in a place notorious for housing some of the worst scum on Earth. He had eyes that still retained a sparkle, hands that were smooth and uncalloused. His clothes were new and he smelled of disinfectant, a healthy glow still on his skin. He was completely different than the people Minho was used to dealing with and he wasn’t sure if he should be his usual, prickly self or gentler. Like dealing with a stray cat, he imagined.

Minho didn’t respond in the end. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked the younger up and down, knowing it would unnerve him and get the point across that they weren’t friends. That Minho wasn’t someone who needed friends. 

“I-I just arrived here a day ago? Yeah, a day ago. I don’t really know all the rules yet, although one of the guards warned me I needed to learn them fast to survive down here. Heh. I doubt you could call this surviving.” The boy leaned his head back and blinked away his tears. Minho only blinked back, silent. The younger cleared his throat and finally scrambled to his feet. “My name is Han Jisung. I’m 16 and sentenced to 50 years in prison. W-what about you?” 

50 years was on the lowest end of what was given here. Minho was already sorting through the possibilities of what the boy had managed to do to get himself stuck here in his head, but he found that in the end it didn’t matter. They were both going to be here a while. 

“Minho. Lee Minho.” He stated after a while, figuring Jisung had been subjected to enough rough treatment for one night. He assumed it was night but time worked differently in the underground. 

_Rule 13: Each prisoner follows their own schedule. There is no night, day, or uniform time. Everyone is given a watch and that is their time to follow. _

The watch Jisung had on was blue, the color of those with lighter offenses. Minho’s own gleamed a shiny black, the hands ticking steadily away as his days were numbered. 

“I don’t quite understand how the whole clock and calendar thing works here but you still celebrate birthdays, right? Oh god do we get holidays?! I’m a bitch for gingerbread and I will not have some nasty old men stop me from getting into the holiday spirit.” Minho couldn’t help but let out a startled laugh at the lightness in the boy’s voice. Jisung smiled widely at the sound, lips forming a heart shaped laugh. “So you do have expressions besides scowling!” 

“Of course I do, I just usually reserve them. I’m not going to pretend to be happy in this shithole as you seem to want to.” Jisung’s smile faltered but it stuck to his face nonetheless. 

“Well, can’t help but want to have a little brightness down here.” The younger shrugged. 

“To answer your question, I’m two years older than you. Come on, I’ll let you know the rules.” Minho sighed and rolled his neck. This one would be sticking around if the giddy laugh coming out of the brunet’s mouth was any indication.

~Present~ 

That sunshine smile that Minho treasured so much was nowhere to be seen now. The younger had finally turned around and his tears were freely flowing. Jisung was sniffling aggressively and a choked sob escaped his throat. Minho felt his chest tighten despite himself and he took a few long strides to tug Jisung into a hug, pressing the boy’s head into his shoulder. He felt the younger’s sobs wrack through his body and knew that the other was crying for him - feeling all the things Minho was no longer able to. 

“Shh sweetie, calm down.” Minho patted the other’s head until Jisung calmed down, ragged breaths slowing and tears soaked into Minho’s grey t shirt. Jisung tried incredibly hard to only show his positive attitude. He hid his pain beneath a mask of jokes and random singing that was meant to alleviate the struggles of others instead. It was what had kept Minho sane in the months leading up to this day.

“M-Minho hyung... please don’t leave me! You can’t leave me too, please please please-” 

~1.5 years ago~ 

“So I know there’s that rule about not talking about your past and whatnot but I think we know each other well enough to let a little something slip, no?” Jisung gave Minho a cheeky grin and nudged him with an elbow. The two were curled up on Jisung’s cot, cuddled under the blankets and sitting side by side against the cold. The underground was practically a freezer during the winter and the slightly padded clothing did little to protect the prisoners from the ice that penetrated the clay walls of their cells. 

“Jisung. No.” Minho said shortly, closing his eyes to stop himself from snapping anything ruder. He had grown to like Jisung (probably too much for his own good) and he wasn’t going to ruin the only relationship he had built in this damn hellhole. 

“But hyung! You refuse to tell me anything even though obviously some of the other prisoners know something or other about you. Hell, even the guards know something!” The boy’s voice had risen in volume slightly, making Minho grit his teeth. 

“Jisung, drop it. Now.” 

“No! Hyung please. I just want to understand you. I’ve told you about my dumb family and the fucking mafia they were involved with, the people I accidentally killed. I told you about how they all left me to die, how they decided I was worthless enough to be given as payment even though they got shot through the head anyway. I told you how I robbed banks and strangled men to survive. How my trial was rigged and all my dreams were stolen away. But you won’t tell me anything.” Jisung was nearly screaming now. “I need to know why you were supposed to die hyung, why everyone calls you a demon!” 

“SHUT UP!” Minho growled and pushed Jisung so that the younger was under him on the bed. He was shooting daggers with his eyes and his mouth was turned into a feral expression that had tears welling in Jisung’s eyes. The boy had never been afraid of the elder; Jisung had never understood the names or weariness others shot at Minho. But now, with this anger and unbridled resentment in the black haired boy’s eyes, he was starting to feel something akin to fear. Minho’s expression morphed in seconds when he heard Jisung whimper, something like regret and a different sort of panic flickering across his visage before it blanked again. 

“H-h-hyung-” Minho sprang back from the bed and shot to his feet, breathing hard and eyes scarily empty. “I-it’s ok I… I shouldn’t have pushed you so much I understand-” 

“No. It’s not.” Minho whispered. Without another word, the boy spun on his heels and opened the door of the cell, disappearing into the halls of criminals that echoed around him. Jisung watched him leave, tears now freely falling down his cheeks and mind a tangled mess. 

~Present~ 

The two were curled into each other on the ground now, the cold earth sticking to their clothes with a layer of dirt that penetrated into their skin. Minho’s sharp eyes were looking hard at Jisung, the boy who was still there and somehow willing to cry for him. Usually, they would be teasing each other about their position, about the tear stains or the red noses in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere. There was none of that now. Just longing in their eyes, for another chance or another life. A world where things weren’t so twisted. 

_Rule 18: Prisoner’s may engage in any sort of relations they wish as long as it does not interfere with the other regulations or affect their work. _

“Hyung. You’re going to leave me, aren’t you?” Minho smiled sadly. “I always knew you would. Not that you want to, I could never blame you for this bullshit. It’s just… I knew it was too good to last. Weird, huh? Finding someone you actually love and want to protect in a fucking prison?” Jisung laughed bitterly. 

“Sungie. My silly little squirrel. You were always too good for this place. I would never have been able to be anywhere else. You know that.” Minho played with the younger’s fingers, averting his eyes. 

~1 year ago~ 

“Chan, this is Jisung. My cellmate.”

“Ah yes, sunshine boy. He’s more than just your cellmate Min.” A dimpled smile matched Minho’s dramatically aghast expression, making Jisung giggle. The younger was latched onto his partner’s arm while they were walking through the hall. One of Minho’s only friends in the prison had crossed their path and, to his chagrin, found Chan and Jisung had the common hobby of annoying the shit out of Minho. 

“He’s just a grumpy cat who needs snuggles is all.” Jisung tried to pet Minho’s head condescendingly but the elder merely dodged in favor of tickling the younger who scrambled away. Chan laughed at their antics, eyes softening at his oldest friend acting so at ease with someone. Chan had been put into the prison after Minho, but the two had easily bonded over their similar ages and common interest in the arts. Minho had only allowed himself to be vulnerable in front of the elder before Jisung had arrived and while Chan was missing his friend as of late, he couldn’t deny that the black haired kid he had met all those years ago would be relieved to see that the current Minho had a spring in his step. A light in his eyes.

“True that. It was nice to meet you Jisung. I’ve heard your radio show by the way, great stuff.” With a wink, Chan was off as quickly as he had come. Jisung blushed happily and waved to the curly haired boy. 

“You are way too positive for this place, you know that?” 

“I like to think that even the darkest corners have a potential for light, you know?” Jisung said it like it was the simplest thing on the planet, but to Minho it was a concept he had yet to grasp. Jisung had his moments of despair as well - almost everyone does at some point - and yet he was able to rise again and look at things with a new eye every time. Minho wasn’t like that. He saw the world in black and white, good and evil. Most of it was crawling with shadows and bad intentions, scams and corruption to blood and violence. Slowly but surely, however, Minho’s world was being invaded by something else. Since Jisung had come into his life, the world wasn’t so monochrome. It had gradients and a new luminescence. Soft faded glows and bursts of stars behind shut eyes even in pitch darkness. 

“Alright, Sungie, alright.” Minho placed a light kiss between the younger’s eyes, receiving a brilliant smile in return. Yeah, maybe life wasn’t so bad after all. 

~Present~ 

“Hyung, you still never told me what got you here you know.” Jisung looked up from beneath his eyelashes, a glimmer of hope shining within them. Minho inhaled sharply and looked away. He was tired. Oh so tired of lying and hiding. His shoulders drooped from the effort of carrying each day forward, of looking at the days tick by until the day he was put on trial again. 20 years on this earth, 10 beneath the surface in a place where he was forced to inhale dust and gas for hours and fight with bruised lips and bloodied knuckles. 

“Yeah. Can you promise me? Promise me that whatever I say doesn’t change me, you… us?” Minho had a tone in his voice that Jisung had never heard before. Something vulnerable. Young almost. The brunet had never noticed just how small Minho could look. He was curled inward and his eyes were half lidded in defeat, mouth twisted in a rueful smile that didn’t reach his eyes. 

“You don’t even need to ask love. You are still my Minho. You know that.” Jisung placed a hand on the elder’s cheek and ran a thumb over his cheekbone. An inhale. 

“OK… I- ok.” 

~10 years ago~ 

Minho was wiping his hands on a towel when the front door opened. He whipped his head up, hand going to his belt where a pistol lay loaded and ready for defense. His hands were still smeared a rusty red from the blood he was attempting to get off. The tension eased from his body as he recognized the shapes of the figures entering the room. Seungmin and Changbin arrived in their black gear, belts shining and leather crinkling as they tossed off their gloves onto the coffee table. Minho smiled widely, open cadavre on the floor forgotten in favor of running to hug his hyungs. The boy with an undershave shoved his hands forward, stopping Minho from getting any closer. The grin on the young boys face faded quickly as the two men scowled at him. 

“Grow up Minho, we have work to do. Did you extract the body parts like we asked?” Seungmin, the red haired boy, asked as he carefully stepped forward to peer at the open body. Changbin choked a little and averted his eyes. Even after the years of experience, he still hated the stench of a dead body. 

“Yes sir!” Minho skipped over to the body and kneeled down to point at the labeled jars. The ten-year-olds handwriting had been neatly written with words like “kidneys” and “spleens”. The childish scribbles provided a harsh contrast to the contents of the jars, body parts still fresh and oozing when Sungmin lifted the lid to one. 

“Good work.” Seungmin gave a short nod and waved a hand in front of his nose, trying to hide his pale face. Meanwhile, Minho was grinning so widely his cheeks were aching. He had made his hyungs proud! His body was all jittery, hands itching to tear apart more organs to make them happy. He had been doing this job for two years, and his skills had proven to make the job of organ selling easier than the elder two would like to admit. They had picked Minho up off the street where he had been fighting with some older homeless men. He had held his own pretty well, but his small body was no match for the multiple enemies facing him. You could call the fateful encounter lucky, or you could call it a curse. Either way, Minho had been recruited into helping Seungmin and Changbin with their business of selling organs and body parts on the black market. The two, while skilled at silent murders and covering evidence, weren’t particularly good with their hands and often messed up the procedures of safely removing the parts. That, or they got too squeamish and Changbin was tired of throwing up over every new carpet they got. Since Minho was added, the boy had diligently studied the many anatomy books housed in the home he now lived in and had never blinked an eye at the cadavers. 

All this changed on one fateful night when the elder boys had finally pushed Minho too hard. Changbin had been playing around with the younger boy in the living room when Seungmin had walked in, furious. 

“GET HIM OUT!” He had yelled, face red and twisted. The two on the floor had looked up in surprise, Changbins hands frozen above a game of Clue. 

“What the hell Seungmin?” 

“Sir?” 

“OUT! I DON’T WANT TO SEE THIS RAT EVER AGAIN.” Seungmin stomped roughly up to the younger and yanked his arm up, causing the boy to yelp in despair. 

“Woah there! Seungmin calm down!” Changbin had sprung to his feet as well and was trying to tear the two apart when Seungmin slapped Minho across the cheek. The room was silent minus the red head’s heavy breathing. Minho’s mind blanked, all panic and fear being erased to a sheet of white that wrapped him up in the shock of being hit by one of his favorite humans. They said they wouldn’t hurt him. 

“I want him gone. He looked through my things. He went into our room, like I told him not to. He tore a picture of us with Jinnie. HE FUCKING CUT HIM OUT!” Seungmin was furious and Minho couldn’t understand why. He had simply seen another boy with his hyungs. A boy that didn’t belong with them. Changbin and Seungmin had never taken a photo with Minho, never offered to give him anything or celebrate his birthday like the boy in the photo with his coned hat. Minho hadn’t liked that. An unfamiliar emotion had swirled in his stomach and it had made him ache. Desperate to make it stop, Minho had picked up a pair of scissors and neatly cut the boy out and burned the fragment over the gas stove, watching his face blacken to ash. 

“Who’s Jinnie, hyungs?” 

“DON’T CALL US THAT. DON’T YOU DARE EVEN SAY HIS NAME!” 

“Sirs.” Minho whispered. Changbin sighed at the child’s confusion. 

“Minho is still a kid, Seungmin. He makes mistakes-” 

“HE’S NOT A CHILD BIN. You know very well what he is. He’s a fucking monster who we never should have taken in in the first place. We started this because of Jinnie, to help others and then it spiraled into this and I don’t even know what we’re doing anymore this is-” Minho felt the world grow fuzzy. Monster. The word echoed in his brain. It bounced off the walls and ricocheted into his heart, lodging itself so deeply he knew it would never be removed. A splinter he didn’t have the power to pull out. 

As Changbin ran to hug a crying Seungmin, Minho concentrated on the sting of his face, the thump of his heart and the pain within. 

Monster. He slowly reached to his belt.  
Monster. With a steady hand and pale eyes, he raised the gun. Pointed it at Seungmin’s head where he knew it would stop the noise. The crying was hurting Minho, hurting him in another new way. He was tired of all these feelings, he just wanted his hyungs to be quiet. 

M O N S T E R. 

BANG! 

~Present~ 

Jisung was shaking; the distance between the boys on the floor felt like a mile - an ocean of doubt. Minho finished his story by explaining how he had cleanly shot both his hyungs in the head, the gunfire alerting the neighbors. The police had found him crying on the floor with a scalpel in his hand while he cut into a broad chest to reach for a heart he was never meant to have. 

“Oh Minho…” Jisung choked and covered his mouth, eyes wide. Minho had a vacant look on his face, like he had just emptied out all the feelings he had stored up for so long. 

“I was never normal Sung. I don’t feel things like other people. I wanted to, really. I think… that now I do.” Minho blinked slowly. “Since I met you I’ve felt a lot of things I never did before. I don’t think I loved my hyungs, as much as I wanted to. I never loved my parents because I never knew them. I was jealous of what Changbin and Seungmin had: an unwavering trust and fondness for one another.” 

“Baby…” 

“Sungie I- I’ll never be who you want me to be. I’m not some sort of confident superhero you make me out to be sometimes. I’ve read your lyrics. I know you see me as someone who’s strong but I… I never have been and I never will be.” Minho looked down, black strands of hair covering his face. The telltale sniffles had Jisung flinging himself at the older. 

They stayed like that for a long time, hours by all the clocks, crying for lost lives and chances and feelings that were never meant to be. They could fill a room with the tears they cried that night, washed away a river of regret for the lost years of their youth.

~6 months ago~ 

“Don’t you feel bad when you see them go?” Jisung asked absentmindedly one day. The two were eating lunch in the cafeteria, specks among an army of prisoners. Yellow light shined down from kerosene lamps on the tall ceilings and the smell of grits flowed through the enclosed space. Minho had always hated the lack of ventilation. 

_Rule 23: Prisoners are allowed three meals in the cafeteria a week. They may take these whenever they wish but all other food will be served as rations. _

“Who?” 

“The other prisoners. I know you are friends with some, or at least talk to others.” Jisung poked around with a bent spoon at his food. A grey mush of leftovers from the surface. 

“No. They were dead when they came down here. They are simply being freed.” Minho didn’t hesitate in his answer but he didn’t miss the flicker of sadness in Jisung’s eyes. 

“Are you dead too then, hyung?” 

“I’ve been dead a long time Sungie.” Minho smirked. “My soul is cold as ice.” 

“That’s not something to brag about.” Jisung deadpanned back and pointed an accusing spoon. 

“I suppose not.” Minho shrugged. “You’re the only person who I’ve seen that isn’t dead in years love.” He smiled, a soft expression as he looked at his lover who had his cheeks stuffed with food. 

“Huh?” Jisung nearly choked. 

“Careful.” Minho handed him a napkin. “Can’t have you dying on me first right after I called you lively.” Jisung blushed and the two giggled, a circle of warmth among the bleakness of the underground. 

~Present~ 

The cell door was pushed open suddenly, the boys still on the ground. Minho had been peppering Jisung’s face in soft kisses when the guards stepped inside. They had devilish smiles on their faces and the boy could practically see the horns on their heads. And they called him a demon. 

“Time’s up lover boy.” A bearded man tapped an imaginary watch and caused the couple on the floor to look down at Minho’s wrist. Indeed, the watch stopped ticking, hands lined up with the 12 at the top and Minho’s heart nearly stopped with it. 

“No.” Jisung whispered. “No no no no no no nO NO-” His voice was growing in pitch and volume as two men grabbed Minho and yanked him upward. The boy didn’t try to resist, but he smiled sadly at Jisung who was hyperventilating as he struggled to pull the elder back down. 

“Jisungie. Sweetie, sunshine please.” Minho’s voice cracked as he shook his head slightly. The brown haired boy was being restrained by a third guard, although he was screaming unlike anything Minho had heard before. The cries were broken and garbled, the boy struggling in vain against the man holding him back. Jisung looked like the men were taking away his life, not Minho’s. Perhaps in a way they were. 

“MINHO!” 

“Jisungie please, baby. Listen to me. Don’t let them put out your light, ok? You have something none of these bastards do.” Minho shoved at the men on his sides who were grunting to pull him away. “I love you sunshine! I know that feeling the best by now. I really love you.” 

With that, the men pulled Minho away to the faded cries of Jisung’s voice as he banged himself against the cell doors that had been forcibly locked from the outside. Those screams would forever be lodged into the brains of the prisoners and the guards. No matter how heartless or empty the residents of the underground claimed to be, they all felt something when the sun and the moon were torn apart. A break in the sky as all the stars came crashing down and the flames were put out forever.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

~A few months before Lee Minho’s execution~ 

“Have you ever read Peter Pan hyung?” 

“No, can’t say I have. The prison library is pretty limited.” Minho snorted and stared up at the ceiling. Once a year, the crystals in the underground were illuminated by lights. The public was allowed to tour the facility on this day to show what exemplary conditions were created for even the lowliest of criminals. Minho had scoffed when the guards had read off the news article to the crowd of prisoners. The inmates themselves were all crowded into the large hall and locked inside for 24 hours. Jisung and Minho were sprawled on the grimy floor and staring at the colors illuminating the walls. Jisung had been pointing them out as if they were constellations while Minho listened in content silence to him ramble on with stories of mother bears and warriors. 

“It’s about three kids who get swept off to Neverland, a place where no one ever grows old. Peter Pan lives there with all the lost boys and fairies and mermaids and pirates. It’s a good story.” Jisung slides closer to Minho and links their hands. 

“So they’re stuck like that? At whatever age they happen to be when they arrive?” 

“Yeah. The boys don’t know much about growing up or life as an adult because they can’t see it like we would. They’re adrift, floating through time and space.” Minho hummed. 

“I think we’re a little like them, no? All of us are stuck here in a place where time is set for us individually, where we don’t know what is going on above or who is alive and who isn’t.” 

“We don’t have pretty mermaids though.” Jisung pouted. 

“We have pretty Jisungs.” Minho tickled the younger, causing him to blush and giggle. 

“Hey, hyung… would you fly with me to Neverland if I asked you? Even if you thought it was a shitty idea?” 

“I’d fly with you wherever you asked Sungie, whether it was the moon or some magical fairy land, if I could I would.” Minho turned his head so that the two were looking into each other’s eyes. 

Gentle smiles lit up their faces as they pressed their foreheads together, hands still locked and minds flying to Neverland. Hearts buried somewhere in the depths of the Earth among crystals made of rainbows and ice. Minho wouldn’t mind being lost forever if Jisung was at his side because Jisung was the home he had always dreamed of.


End file.
